


Chainsmoking and crawling skin

by thatsalotofbirds



Series: Not even the street dogs [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Finns got trauma, John is Finn's father figure, Lots of flashbacks to finns childhood, M/M, Queer!Finn, The Peaky Blinders - Freeform, arthur is an ass in this sorry, finn doesn't like being touched, like at all, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29537202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsalotofbirds/pseuds/thatsalotofbirds
Summary: Finn Shelby was not a touchy person.It surpassed just not liking to be touched though. He jumped when people touched him, even if he knew what was coming, even if it was friendly. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, wasn’t a topic that felt worthy of any type of family discussion, Tommy already had enough reason to send him off to a nuthouse without Finn trying to explain that his skin crawled whenever someone patted him on the shoulder. There were two exceptions to this rule.TW: Implied sexual abuse by a member of the church
Relationships: Finn Shelby & John Shelby, Isaiah Jesus & Finn Shelby, Isaiah Jesus/Finn Shelby
Series: Not even the street dogs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178234
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Chainsmoking and crawling skin

Finn Shelby was not a touchy person. 

It surpassed just not liking to be touched though. He jumped when people touched him, even if he knew what was coming, even if it was friendly. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, wasn’t a topic that felt worthy of any type of family discussion, Tommy already had enough reason to send him off to a nuthouse without Finn trying to explain that his skin crawled whenever someone patted him on the shoulder. 

It’d developed it in his teens, his dislike of contact, but it was never a big issue, the Shelby family was not exactly known for their coddling of each other and more often than not Finn was dodging a fist rather than a comforting pat or hug. It worsened with the death of John though. 

Tommy, Arthur, and John had always been the closest of the brothers and with their closeness had come trust and touch. They’d grown up wrestling each other, tussling in the friendly way brothers do. Even after fond memories of Birmingham began to fade and those days of carefree play were long forgotten it seemed the three brothers were always within arms length. Once John was gone Finn was expected to take his spot, and that spot included the touch and the place he had once longed for among his brothers now made him nauseous and uncomfortable. 

Finn remembered when he didn’t hate touch, when Tommy, Arthur, and John loomed over him and their hugs and playful shoves were always welcome. He remembered Tommy pulling him from his car, lecturing him but holding him tight all the same as the bomb exploded across the street. 

Finn wondered when it all went wrong as he lay sprawled on Polly’s couch. He was blowing clouds of smoke at the ceiling waiting for his aunt to show back up and he was thinking. Thinking was a luxury just as addictive as snow. Where did it start? That nausea and crawling skin. 

It could have been the first time Arthur struck him. Slapped him right across the face. To Arthur’s credit he’d been drunk and Finn had been escorted in by Charlie who had been privy to his most recent escapade that almost left him dead. He’d jumped into the Cut after some ball and was shivering so much that his teeth clacked together. After getting him dry Tommy had lectured, had waved his hands about and said something about Finn needing to stay safe. Ada had snapped at him, Finn had never seen her so angry before he was almost scared of her. Arthur though, Arthur terrified him, his eldest brother had approached him with a glower on his face and fire in his eyes saying the same things Tommy had but much louder. 

He’d called Finn a child and when Finn tried to protest Arthur had hit him. It wasn’t the kind of reprimanding slap one would doll out to a twelve year old who’d gone for what at the time seemed like a harmless swim. It was the kind of slap one uses on an enemy, on someone who’s insulted your lady or said something rude about your family. It had sent Finn sprawling and for a split second the room was silent. Polly turned from her place at the window and crossed the room. Finn couldn’t see anyone’s expressions from the floor but he heard scuffling and yelling. He didn’t stick around to find out what happened next. 

John had found him in the hay above Curly’s stable. He’d comforted the boy, told him how that wasn’t really Arthur, just the drink. Finn believed him, who doesn’t trust the word of their older brother? They’d sat for a while and John had hugged him, squeezed him tight and Finn had felt nothing but safe, no crawling skin no nausea. 

It easily could have been that but there were other contenders. Finn had been prone to roaming the streets of Birmingham alone when he was younger, it was his little way of proving he was a Peaky Blinder. They owned the streets after all. Being the least recognizable of the Shelby’s though often got him into unforeseen trouble. See, Finn liked to act like Tommy while he walked down the streets, he conjured up an air of superiority and stuck out his chest and challenged anyone who tried to interrupt his walk. More often than not Finn ended up running down the street with a group of other boys on his tail. It never really scared him, it was all a big joke and could all be stopped with a mere mention of the Shelby name but it was fun nonetheless. 

Once though through a ridiculous turn of events that never would have happened had Finn not strayed so far from Small Heath. He’d stuck around too long after shoving a boy and before he knew what was happening someone had a painfully tight grip on his shoulder and was pushing him towards the church. Finn did not like to dwell on what had happened next. Three nights later Finn had still not slept through a full night since, John had taken to sitting watch in a rocking chair, to ‘ward off the demons’. When Finn woke up crying, John was always there rubbing quiet circles on Finn’s back telling quiet fairy tales, there was no nausea then either. 

Finn took a puff of his cigarette, inhaling deeply while he recalled the night after that. 

John hadn’t been in the rocking chair yet, he’d promised he’d be there by Finn's bedtime and it was way past then. Finn took to trying to lull himself to sleep, trying not to think about the hand on his shoulder or the rancid breath that he could still feel on the back of his neck. Hours later John sauntered in, his knuckles bloody and a bruise on his cheek. He took to his position with a newspaper that night, puffing on cigarette after cigarette, trying to calm his shaking hands. 

Finn breathed a sigh of relief when the priest’s body was found in the Cut the next day, face swollen and battered. The newspaper said it was because he was skimming off donations, Finn believed them, he’d always been a trusting kid. It wasn’t until years later that he realized no one murders a priest that brutally without good cause, skimming donations rarely resulted in murder. 

He’d approached John about it quietly, he needed to know if it was coincidence. John had flicked his toothpick from his mouth and said 

“You used to talk in your sleep.” He said it with such an air of finality that Finn was afraid to ask his next question.

“Did you tell them?” Finn nodded at their other two brothers who were talking quietly over some papers in the corner. 

John just shook his head. Nothing else was said on the matter and Finn was completely okay with that. 

John sent him off with a pat on the back, Finn didn’t even mind the touch. Not hours later Tommy playfully thwapped him with his flatcap and Finn startled like the doves outside the Garrison. It seemed John was the only exception to his nausea, the only person who could touch him without his skin crawling. 

He’d told John before he moved out of Small Heath with Esme, told him that he was queer. It’d taken his brother a second to understand what Finn was saying, Finn hadn’t phrased it very clearly and wasn’t keen on elaborating or repeating it. John seemed to get the gist though and shrugged, Finn had been looking at his shoes for most of the conversation but John’s voice snapped him to attention. 

“Nice of ya,” he’d muttered from beneath his cap. 

Finn looked up, frankly a little startled at his brother’s statement. 

“How-,” Finn cleared his throat “How so?” 

“Leavin’ all the ladies for me,” John laughed. Finn scoffed but a grin followed all the same. Then John pulled him into a tight hug, still chuckling at his own joke. Finn didn’t even pull away. He hadn’t realized then but it was the last time John hugged him, it was the last time someone touched him without him feeling sick. 

Finn’s being queer had never been an issue to John, it was never something that needed solving, it was just a fact about his baby brother. There was always some comfort in that for Finn, his brother had no qualms with it even if the rest of the family did. With John’s death that was gone and once again Finn had the weight of the secret to bear all on his own. It wasn’t fucking fair but Finn was long past the age when he could complain about something not being fair. The world wasn’t fair, it wasn’t kind and justice had a nice little habit of sitting around and watching people suffer. After enough years as a Peaky Blinder Finn understood that. 

Finn breathed in sharply as his cigarette burned his finger, he’d let it burn down too far, had been too lost in thought. He quickly put out the cigarette in the ashtray next to him just as the door opened. Isaiah walked in taking off his cap as he wiped his shoes, tracking mud on Polly’s carpet wasn’t a risk even a Peaky Blinder would take. 

“Your aunt around Finn?” 

Finn shook his head as he reached in his pocket for another cigarette. Chain-smoking was an unfortunate habit he’d picked up from John but some days it felt like the only bit of John still around.

His pockets yielded nothing but Isaiah just passed him the lit cigarette from his mouth without Finn even having to ask. Finn paused a second before accepting it with a nod of gratitude. 

“You look like you need a drink,” It was somewhat backhanded but a factual enough statement that Finn snorted. 

“I do,” 

“C’mon then,” 

Isaiah stuck out his hand, fully expecting Finn to refuse it like he always did. To the surprise of both of them Finn grabbed it without even hesitating letting his best friend pull him to his feet. He expected the usual wave of nausea maybe to even get a little dizzy but neither happened. Isaiah paused to look at him. 

“You didn’t wince,” an astute observation. 

Finn stared at him, they were still holding onto each other’s hands and for the first time in years Finn’s skin didn’t come alive like a colony of ants. So with the last of his energy Finn tackled Isaiah. Isaiah made a startled sound before hugging his best friend back just as tightly.

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely a little rushed but I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment if you want me to write about something specific or if you just have something to say :D


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